


Memoriam Blooms

by TabbyChat



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blue has freaky properties, Characters not real people, Gen, Manipulative Dream later on if that bothers you, Memories, Memory Loss, No Beta, No Major Character Death- Ghostbur, Non-Graphic Death Mentions, Tommy seeking adrenaline spikes to combat his depression ASMR, discontinued, dream has secrets..., most characters are very minor, painful memories, slight alcohol mentions!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabbyChat/pseuds/TabbyChat
Summary: A garden of lost memories leads an exiled Tommy into the past.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Kudos: 49





	1. Forget-Me-Not

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I whipped up really quickly! Hope you enjoy

The clumps that the dead man poured his heart into were covered in all sorts of flowers. It was a garden made from pain, something so beautiful fashioned from a past so tragic. He stuffed a barrel full of them, its outside stained with blue liquid, fine blue dust filling the air.

“Wi-Ghostbur,” Tommy asked, “why does it stink? Are you hiding a body?”

“No, no! Look, Tommy, blue can smell not-so-great sometimes, but whatever you do,” Ghostbur said, looking him dead in the eyes, “don’t take a deep breath. Strange things happen.”

“I’ll take your word for it, I guess. (Still think you’re probably hiding a body.)”

Tommy walked off. It had been a lonely exile. Had it been days? A week? A month? He couldn’t tell. He only knew that the only people that had come to visit were Dream, Ranboo, and the goddamn annoying pity party peanut gallery, only seeking attention. And with this loneliness, he had gained a dangerous sort of rebellious tinge, doing risky things to cover up the constant growing pit in his stomach.

So far, it had worked. The trident Dream had given him was great for recklessly flying about in the rain, going too high for it to be safe. And the caves spanning below the island, full of monsters, were a good place to get an adrenaline rush. Hell, standing near the lakes of lava in the Nether put you on edge! But Tommy wasn’t satisfied- he was starting to be alone with himself again. Never a good thing, being alone with your own thoughts. They were treacherous things, ones that could get you into trouble.

So Tommy decided to be a troublemaker. He went towards the leaky barrel when the ghost had faded to who knows where. The first thing he noticed was how it stunk to high heaven. The stench of gunpowder, blood, and damp cave air was nothing like you’d expect from a clump of flowers. But still he persisted, cracking open the top of the barrel and sticking his hand in with a sickening squelch.

Blue stained his sleeves and trickled down his arms, room temperature liquid, cloyingly sticky with a strange weight to it. It was a mess. Lifting up one clump, he could see a forget-me-not blossoming at the very center. It was a delicate flower surrounded by a hellish scent, and he was tempted. Tommy held the flower up to his face and took a deep inhale…

He was in L’Manberg. His L’Manberg, built on solid ground, in front of the podium that had been blown to smithereens so long ago. And a man long dead was on the top, with ram horns curling to a sharp point, his wolfish grin and smug face just as Tommy remembered. Yet everything was from a different perspective, he realized- and when he looked to the side, there was Tommy, standing beside him.

“Well, that was easy.” Fuck. He was in Wilbur’s head somehow! No, he had to get out, had to escape before-

“And you know what I said, the day I got unbanned, and the day I said I was running in an election... that I won? I said, ‘Things are gonna change’, and I looked every citizen of L’Manberg in the eye, and I said: ‘You listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow.’ Let’s start making it happen.” Exactly how he remembered it. He knew what was coming, yet when he tried to move, he couldn’t- he spoke on his own, for these weren’t his memories, and this wasn’t the present.

“My first decree, as the President of L’Manberg... no, as the EMPEROR of this great country...” Internally, he braced himself. This is when it all went downhill, when his L’Manberg fell apart. It was funny, really, how he was experiencing the second exile while remembering the first.

“...is to REVOKE the citizenship of Wibur Soot and TommyInnit! Get ‘em out! You’re no longer welcome!” And his legs carried him away, scrambling to escape after the unexpected shock, but

a PAIN shot through his skull.

The single bolt of a crossbow.

It hurt like hell, like losing a duel, and it seemed like his soul was

ESCAPING from his body

becoming something else until

Tommy woke up on the ground.

He had been crying blue tears. The clump was still clutched in his hand, Logtopia’s small walls surrounding him... and he had enough for the day.

Dreaming of old songs and former friends, Tommy went to sleep.


	2. Begonias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a retrospective take, as well as a setup for what’s next to come!

There’s a tradition on the SMP not to touch planted begonias- they only started spawning after the war, after all. Yet that’s only the surface level reason. If you delve deeper, into the minds of tortured people who wish to forget, and into the lives of the dead, you’ll find something else about these flora.

For if you embed a memory in blue and a begonia sprouts from it, it’s one of your worst memories- something so painful it would help if you’d forgotten. At least, that’s what the specter that doles it out claims.

Clusters of begonias are in certain places. A lovely, near-frozen patch are upon a distant wintery windowsill. Near a historic camar van, in the very front on the dashboard, sun spills onto a good clump of blossoms. And in a land of exile, one rarely visited, begonias dot the landscape- lining the path, clustered around the portal, even some hung around the tent.

Never smell a begonia- you don’t want to feel the gut-wrenching pain, emotional or physical, someone else felt.

But there’s still small snippets, whispers of what they could possibly be contained within.

Maybe you embracing your son for a final goodbye, crying as you fulfill his last wishes?

Or a nation blown to smithereens, a history wiped to ashes, you releasing creatures of hell in destruction’s wake to hide the horror you feel at the scars the explosion left?

Possibly a drunken man you once admired, sprawled upon a floor, dying of his own vices?

A friend? Former friend? Standing atop a wall, watching you get dragged away by the person that’s become the only one you can trust?

Maybe it’s towering walls being cut down deftly by your own dear son’s hand, a flag burning to ashes?

Or you’re pushing a button, not knowing you’re making a decision you’ll forever regret, one that sowed distrust and led to a nation’s downfall?

What about the sight of a dear friend, more dear than you can say, being consumed by a fetid growth that pulses beneath the earth?

Your father, fallen from grace, a pillar of heroic deeds now living underground like a mole, paranoid and insane?

Whatever it is, they dare not experience it, for bringing the pain back into the world disrespects the wishes of those who sealed it away.

And it should stay that way forever. The man in the mask looks at the begonia. He plants it in the sea, along with the rest of his underwater garden, for nobody to find- a secluded glass dome, hidden for all eternity, or so he thought.

Who wakes up under the water?


	3. Man. I don’t know what to do with this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!

I was trying to figure out what to do with this fic for days on end. A draft for chapter 3 turned into a new oneshot, so take that, I guess. It’s called Trouble On Your Head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link for Trouble On Your Head:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230246


End file.
